


May 2

by MakaWinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Cute Castiel, Dean Winchester Being an Asshole, Endverse, Gay Sex, I'm Sorry Castiel, M/M, The End, explicit raiting because of the last chapter, little violence, mention of drugs, season 5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6423997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakaWinchester/pseuds/MakaWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel ponders about his first time as a human being in his entirely life.<br/>Dean goes to speak with Cas about some duties but something feels wrong: today is Sam's birthday and he doesn't want to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May 2

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, there! How are you? :)
> 
> First of all, this is my first Destiel in English. I'm not a native speaker, so forgive me if there are grammar horrors and PLEASE help me improving my English. Any advice or comment would be most welcome! 
> 
> The story is collocated some time before the episode "The End" (s05e04) . Why the endverse AU if we are at season 11? Because yes :3  
> This is an opening chapter (1 of 3). Explicit rating because of the final chapter.  
> I borrowed sentences from seasons after season 5 because I like them and they fit quite well in the story. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: sadly I own nothing :'(

  
He was quiet, terse. In Heaven, most of the times, his brothers worked hard to pull words out of his mouth.  
He professed loneliness, Castiel.  
His mind was full of thoughts, one thousand at the second. As an angel, it was easy to hold them still but things changed when he lost his mojo. It got hard to mix up with humans because of his angelic nature - even with his Grace gone, he preserved the typical behavior of someone who is not used to live amongst folks; his people skills were rusty. Through others eyes he was a “dumbass with an empty gaze”, in Chuck's opinion.  
Right after the Apocalypse the Profhet became his personal teacher about pop culture. Chuck proved great patience; well, there was not so much to be involved in before Camp Chitaqua and every thing made a good excuse to not let the mind walk.  
At the time, Dean was fighting the guilt of letting his brother fell into the Devil's clutches. The hunter had never been the same again. The best way to kill Dean Winchester? Kill Sam Winchester. Right, Dean was dead. The only reason keeping him in this world was the purpose of icing that son of a bitch of Lucifer, cast him in the Cage forever. Sam's body was just a container; his soul had packed the bags and left without greeting by then, worn out by the battle against a freak too powerful, a monster on which John Winchester didn't leave notes in his diary. Dean would never forgive himself for agreeing Sam's stupid plan, for beliving things could go better, one way or another.  
One night, when even the pillow looked like an enemy to Castiel, the ex-angel heard something that crushed his heart: a man was calling Michael at the top of his lungs, praying the Archangel - with a disperate “yes” - to give him a last chance; a man willing to sacrifice his life for his family. That night Dean lost a lot of breath but no one answered, Michael didn't show himself in front of someone who had been too stubborn and cocky to listen him before.  
That episode marked the end of the Dean who made Castiel fall, lose his pureness and his place in Heaven; the human who made his angel-self take leave of all his senses, feel the _doubt_ that wormed his way in his mind and never left again, guilty of making Cas the Creature he was now. However the ex-angel had no regrets. He'd choose Dean over and over but with a different end. Neither Croats nor Lucifer. With Sam, so maybe the hunter would appreciate him; no more glances sated of disgust. Gentle hands would cherish his face, without hurry, and then they would laugh together thanks to a joke Chuck taught him.

When the orange little jar was empty, sleep was strenuous and if he succeeded than his rest was anguished; not by nightmares. They were mere fears if compareted to everyday reality. The worst were the happy dreams, in which a smiling Dean was hugging his giant brother and then they both turned around to look at Cas.  
_“We made it, Sammy is back,” said the older Whinchester while copious tears streamed down his face. “We beat the Devil.”_  
And then Cas woke up, an agonizing ache in his chest, the heart suffering, tricked, and he needed all the jar of pills to make it through the day.  
A nightmare can be forgot, faced. A happy Dean was a utopia.  
This was just one of the numerous desires of Castiel, one of the most deep, that occasionally went to visit him. However the ex-angel was aware he couldn't harbour any hopes, so he sedated them, sending them to rest in the corners of his mind and he waited in apprehension until they'd go finally away.  
Sometimes, during his darkest days, when he hollowed his personal reserve out, Cas gathered some people of the Camp in his cabin and what they did there gave him few hours of peacefulness. After everyone was gone, he looked at the ceiling, lying down on the pillows smelling of sex, no muscle moving, with his eyes rambling everywhere and nowhere, lost; maybe because he was high or maybe because Castiel was really lost, who knows.  
Cas didn't remember exactly when things went that way or when he started to like assuming drugs, he just knew that without them he was fucked. Withdrawal symptoms always caught him unprepared. Dean and Chuck tried to save him.  
_«Please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too.» whispered the hunter in his ear, sitting next to the filthy cot where Cas was shaking because of convulsion. «We're a family, I need you» he said, beliving no one could hear him._  
He was too concentrated in chasing easement at the time, the sorrow due to his lost wings - he felt the absence, Castiel - and he didn't notice the frosty wind building an icy wall and wrapping the heart of the only Winchester alive. So Dean gave up.  
_«Let him rot in his own shit,» he grunted to the Prophet, the teeth in pain due to the nervous jaw. «I'll take care of Sam alone.»_  
He was at fault of making Dean the man he was now, too; the weight of the world on him unfairly, Cas let him down. He let a lot of people down as well. His brothers and the whole Heaven, because he gave them the cold shoulder.  
_«He broke our rules!» yelled one of his fellow soldier._  
_«You gave us order, Castiel, and we gave you our trust,» said Hannah, his subordinate. «Don't lose it over one man.»_  
And Sam, 'cause he was not able to help him. He was an ant compared to the power of the ex-archangel; a zero. (Probably it was because of this that Dean hated him now.)

As a human, Castiel didn't know how to react to problems. He locked himself up, pitying his own self about how unlucky he was and he waited for them to go away, ignoring that problems get big if you don't act fast and become stronger. If he had had his Grace with him it'd have had a different approach; he'd have reacted, faced them in the right way. Emotions, unfortunately, tied him up, like a plastic bag wrapped around his head they didn't let him breath well, prevented him to think clearly. Before then he had just heared people talking about it. Millions of years watching the human race didn't help in making him an expert about the matter. Well, he was very good in recognizing them on the faces of men dear to him and in classifying them, but he could not understand the feeling to his fullest. So he preferred to turn off the light and let rage and worries to be envelopped by the fog of the dope.

When he was an Angel of the Lord, Balthazar often told him about the pleasant sensation of heat the red wine gave to him or about how sometimes he let himself soccumb to idleness during the winter, by the fireplace, his nose tickeld by the sharp smell of the resin due to the burning firewood.  
_«All this things make me cheerful, Cassie» stated the blonde scarecrow with a smile. «You should try it, too, sometimes. Perhaps it'd help you get free of that bothersome stick up your ass!»_  
During the little time he spent with Gabriel, Castiel learned about sex. The Archangel lent him a porn tape where he played the role of the protagonist and Cas studied it well, like a diligent student, but he didn't fathom the beastly instict that drove his brother wild to take the beautiful lady of the video.  
Now, instead, things were different.  
Thanks to the various drugs he took daily, Castiel was able to hold his thoughts still. He got used to emotions, dazed them, and became an experienced lover.  
  
  


_________________________________________________

The ex-angel did other two breathing exercises, with his hands joined and his legs crossed, before he invited the ladies in the room - that sometimes was used as a huge bedroom - to lay down on the pillows all around.  
«Castiel, your meditation sessions are awesome, you know that?» squacked the blonde woman to his right, clapping her hands.  
«I'm flattered, Ester» he confessed with a smile. «Would you like to start today bacchanal?»  
Ester was delighted of hearing him pronounce those words.  
She was in love with him, from the first time she set foot in the Camp and her gaze fell on the man sitting on the grass, in meditation. Through her eyes, the fact that he was an ex-angel donated an extra charm to him, something that other men were missing.  
Castiel arranged sexual orgy in his cabin two times a week, more or less - when he wasn't too stoned. They were fundamental to “keep a young mind and release endorphins into the body”, he often said.  
«Nowadays there are not a lot of things that a man can enjoy» he explained to a confused Chuck.  
Every one could partecipate as long as he or she was eighteen, at least. Man or woman, the sexuality of his partners was never a problem nor a obstacle to Castiel; he went to females to males with no qualms. The body was no source of issues, the only important thing was the pleasure.  
Excited, Ester crawled to him. With her legs astride and the hands at the sides of his head she smiled lustful, leaning towards his lips. However, before she could touch him, a man cleared his throat in the doorway. Cas knew from whom that voice came from. He was unimpressed and didn't move, keeping the woman firm were she was.  
«Good evening, our fearless Leader! You here to take part in this wonderful activity? I'm sure these ladies won't protest, as a matter of fact» he said tipsy with a cheeky face, winking at the three women whom were giggling.  
His impertinet voice tone didn't elude Dean, that was a recurring little theater. «I must speak with you.» he asserted imperative.  
No “can I” or “please” nor “we”, it's an order, Castiel was thinking. And Dean did it because he knew when he'd arrive there that Cas would be high. He didn't listen to his miserable advice anymore. I cannot blame him. To the hunter, the ex-angel was just a burden, something to get rid of as soon as possible. A soldier to sacrifice in the war against the Croats, nothing more. Cas knew it but despite that it was impossible for him to say no to Dean.  
«Ladies, I'm deeply sorry! Right when things were going to become hot, but you heard the boss»  
The women set a moan of objection free that was immediately hushed down by their Leader.  
«Thank you, Dean» hissed Ester ironic - the boldest among them - while lifting up to leave the cabin, followed by the other two women.  
Dean knew her as an annoying witless chick. She had repeatedly and in vain tried to coerce Castiel into a relationship but he refused, giving her just some private sessions and hoping she'd leave him alone. Ester always showed off with the other women about their “secret and super-exclusive affair”, she belived to be special in some ways because she had been chosen by the “Spiritual Guide” of Camp Chitaqua.  
Dean hoped she'd quickly lose interest in him, he didn't want her to be in his way every time he went in that fucking cabin.  
He didn't bother to replay, too busy in looking the room and letting the Creature feel all his sense of revultion about that strong smell of weed.  
The ex-angel followed his gaze and the hatred he read inside of it stabbed him in the chest. He pretended not to see it, that was ordinary administration.  
«So,» he summoned attention, trying to change that silent argument. «You stopped me in the thick of it, you owe me one good lay» Cas teased him, smiling widely. «Oh, correction: you owe me three sweet pieces of tail!»  
Dean moved his eyes upon those blue faded irises that years ago belonged to his angel. «I have no time for your stupid jokes, find someone else to fuck with» he said, snarling. «You are a mess.»  
Castiel brought his hands up to his chest, pretending to be offended, and stepped towards the mirror. A tall man, with a white tunic - too big - leaning from a shoulder, returned his gaze. His black messy hair and the scruffy beard were giving him a shabby look; the dark circles under his eyes and the collarbone in plain view were highlighting his thinness. Years ago that was Jimmy Novak's body but now it was hosting a creature occuping one of the steps of the podium of Dean's hatred. Neither man nor angel. A creature God himself blocked the eternal bliss.  
Cas sent away those negative thoughts and laughed, his eyes dull and his pupils unnaturaly expanded. «I'm delightfully pechy, to be honest»  
He walked away from the mirror and headed to a little closet where he hidden all the good booze. He opened it and pulled out a bottle of Scotch, pure malt, pouring the whisy into two glasses and passed one to Dean.  
«No, thanks.» was the arid answer of the hunter to that tacit bid.  
«Oh, came on, what are you afraid of? I didn't dissolve any med inside of it» insisted Castiel, stretching his arm. «Humor me!»  
Dean gave up, accepting the glass. He sniffed the liquid, anticipating the comfort of choking his problems into the warm embrace of the alcohol. Old habits are die hard.  
Silence took over, while the two men were tasting the flavour.  
Everything in Castiel was different, considered Dean all of a sudden, from his movements, more graceful, to his way of talking. His tone while speaking was sweeter; every sentence combined with a laugh at the end, every comment with a mocking gesture.  
He was a champion between the sheets. Even Geranld, the most religious person of Camp Chitaqua, took part in a session once. One night, Dean saw Chuck going out of Cas' cabin. That Creature made his Castiel the most brilliant slut and Dean hated him because of this.  
He ended his drink. «Where the hell did you find this shit?» the hunter squawked, his throat burnig.  
«During a mission, I cleaned a liquor store out.» he explained proud, pouring a second shot to both of them. «I wanted to keep it for when we'd finally blow the Morning Star out, but Sam's birthday seems a very propitious time to me.»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I have a lot of problems with VERBAL TENSES in English. I've got no Beta reader, sadly. I'm trying my best, traslating from Italian isn't that easy. So, HELP me, please!   
> So, what do you think about Ester? And what about Dean and Cas relationship?  
> Next chapter will be the last and we'll know how Dean will react. What do you think will happen? 
> 
> Thank you. Xxx

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, again! 
> 
> Ok, I know that the story lines of Hanna, Lisa and Ben are after "The End" but, as I said before, they fit quite well in the story so let's pretend it all happened before. :D  
> Poor Chuck is just mentioned because I'm not so good in handling too many characters. Shame on me! 
> 
> How did it go? I hope good enough.  
> See you next chapter!  
> Thank you for reading! Xx


End file.
